Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned
by Cassie Valentine
Summary: It has been . . . far too long since my last confession.


She clutched the flight helmet tightly under her arm as she rushed through the halls of the air craft carrier, brushing past other officers and crew, not really caring if she bumped into them or not. She slid into one of the bathrooms and picked the first stall, dropping the helmet beside her as she fell to her knees and heaved her lunch into the toilet.

She had always known that there was a possibility she'd wind up on a carrier, in the gulf, in fact she had been hoping for such a posting; combat was the fastest way to climb the ranks. She hadn't expected to be told that she'd be flying a fighter plane over Iraq under the handle of Comet.

She sat back on her heels, trying to calm her nerves and her stomach while praying that no one came in. She was one of only a handful of women on the ship and the only one flying fighter jet. She had worked too long and too hard to be seen as just as tough as the guys to have it all be blown now, all because she was scared shitless of what might happen. Life on the carrier was relatively safe but life in the air was where the danger was; one well placed shot and she'd find herself plummeting to the desert below.

With one final deep breath, she pulled her self up, flushed the evidence of her fear away and marched to the sink, washing her hands and taking a sip or two of water before she headed out onto the flight deck where she would be strapped into a parachute before being escorted to her jet and helped inside.

"Tower, this is Comet, ready to depart on your signal," she radioed, hoping her voice sounded strong and steady,that it wouldn't betray her.

"Comet, this is tower, you are clear to depart. God speed," the tower radioed back. She acknowledged them, thanked them and helped guide the jet into position. With one final deep breath, she set the jet in motion. The tarmac was quickly nothing but a blur as she sped down the short run way, the controllers in their different coloured bibs blurring into a fuzzy rainbow and she felt herself starting to breath faster. She pulled up as the end of the deck began to appear on the horizon and she found herself holding her breath, hoping that her flight wouldn't be over before it began.

Aerodynamics and physics promptly kicked in and she found herself leaving the deck of the carrier and smoothly gliding through the air. So found herself relaxing into the seat, letting instinct take over as she guided her jet into the formation.

As the flight continued on, she couldn't help but smile. She loved flying, it was easy and soothing and if she could have found a reason to spend hours in the air in the cramped little cockpit of her jet, she would. Certain that everything was fine, she let her gaze wander to the ground that was starting to appear below her. The desert stretched below her like a white ocean, glinting in the sun and it was marred only by the shanty villages that were starting to dot the land scape. She kept half an ear on the chatter from the other pilots as she took in the local scenery, but quickly snapped back to attention when she heard the warning for enemy planes in the area.

Within moments, the organized formation had broken up into smaller groups of two's or three's as evasive maneuvers were put into play to avoid enemy fire. She pulled her jet quickly to the left and into a steep dive before pulling up and looping over until she was behind the enemy. Quickly she leveled off, lined the plane up in her cross hairs and fired, veering to the right to avoid the debris shower.

The battle was quickly over, the planes regrouped into formation and carried out their original mission before returning home. She sat quietly in her cockpit for a long moment after she had landed, glad that she was near the end of the line for disembarkation. The reality of what had just happened was starting to hit her; she had survived her first flight, her first dog fight and her first bombing run.

She had also just taken her first life as a soldier.

Lt. Samantha Carter had just killed someone, some one's son, brother, husband, uncle, cousin, nephew, father, husband. . . . her mind ran through all the possible familial connections of the enemy pilot and she felt that sick feeling coming back. Thankfully, she reigned herself in by the time the flight crew showed up to spring her from the plane and she graciously accepted the congratulations of her fellow pilots for a job well done.

She returned the parachute and the flight helmet and hurried to her bunk to change out of her flight suit and into some slightly more comfortable BDU's. What she really wanted to do was curl up and cry, or at least call her father and listen to him tell her it was ok, that she had only done what was expected of her but she couldn't do either, she had a reputation to protect so she would be seen as an equal instead of a girl playing a man's game. She headed off to find the ships chaplain instead.

Sam hadn't gone to church since her mother's funeral, but having been raised catholic, she found she couldn't stay away any longer after today. She waited her turn in the short line to see the chaplain, mentally rehearsing what she was going to say, what had been ingrained in her since she was very small. She ducked into the space provided as soon as she was able.

"In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, Amen," she said, crossing herself quickly. "Forgive me father, for I have sinned, it has been. . . far too long since my last confession." She paused for a moment before the chaplain urged her to continue. "I killed a man today," she admitted quietly, part of her waiting for God to strike her down. "I shot his plane down and accepted congratulations for it when the mission was over." The chaplain was quiet; this was not as unusual a confession as one might think. He offered her some things to consider; that this was war, that she had been protecting herself and others and following orders but she didn't feel any better. Eventually he gave her a penance to do and she slipped out of the confessional, heading to the small altar of candles that had been set up. She lit one for the man she had killed before setting about the penance she had been issued.

She was slightly surprised that whens he had finished, she did feel slightly better, like her soul was lighter than when she had arrived and she took some comfort in that for a moment before the guilt of using religion to justify killing settled in her chest again.

Before crawling into her bunk that night, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and she recognized the look in her eyes as the one she saw in her father's eyes. It wasn't as ingrained as his, but she could see it just the same.

She took the mirror down the next morning.


End file.
